


in the scheme of things

by gealbhan



Series: kid gloves [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bonding, Gen, House Hunting, Humor, Platonic Relationships, Slice of Life, Trans Nott, Trans Solidarity, bg beau/yasha, bg caduceus/pumat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-27 18:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealbhan/pseuds/gealbhan
Summary: Nott knows she’d suggested that Molly help her on her apartment search, but she hadn’t expected Caleb to take her seriously and tell him. She’d expected even less that Molly wouldagree.





	in the scheme of things

**Author's Note:**

> ok, first off, happy new year! second off, GUESS WHO'S BACK BABEY!!!!
> 
> so this has been sitting in my drafts since before i even finished updating kg, but i've been working on a couple new cr fics (ok so maybe they're all fusion aus but i'm valid) & catching up from ep 29 so i decided to finish it & fix it up!! especially because kg is at 69 bookmarks at the time i'm writing these notes (though i'm pretty sure it won't be when i'm posting this) and that's just a landmark i need to celebrate somehow
> 
> this probably won't make sense if you haven't read [[take your kid gloves off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865447)] first, so i strongly recommend doing that!
> 
> it might be a stretch to say that the title is from "trapped in a car with someone you don't want to be trapped in a car with" from _crazy ex-girlfriend_ , but that's the truth. enjoy!

On the calm-before-the-storm morning of what Nott expects to be another normally grueling day of house hunting, Molly steps into the kitchen. This in and of itself isn’t strange—most days since school got out, if Caleb isn’t over at his place, he’s over at theirs. What’s odd is that he’s dressed, complete with a pair of sunglasses and a smile, and, it seems, ready. For what, Nott doesn’t know.

Her eyes narrow, but he’s already making his way to the fridge. So she shrugs it off. Like usual, she says, “G’mornin’,” around the bagel stuffed in her mouth and turns back to face the window. And…

Molly doesn’t reply.

Up until that point, it’s a normal morning encounter between Molly and Nott. They exchange awkward greetings and bicker over the coffee machine, then play nice when Caleb emerges, and Nott pretends to gag when he kisses Molly’s forehead in greeting or vice versa, and Molly makes a snide remark, and Caleb sighs and pours himself a teeming mug of coffee, and then everyone goes about their individual businesses. Today is already off-script.

Nott frowns but finishes chewing—given she’d shoved an entire half of a bagel in her mouth and Caleb has reminded her recently how rude it is to spit half-chewed food out, it takes some time. Molly is sipping from a can of LaCroix by the time she looks back up.

“What’s going on?” she says, looking him over. His outfit seems more practical and less tacky than his typical clothes—a loose tank top tucked into a pair of manageably patterned high-waisted shorts. His hair is also visibly damp, meaning he’d showered already.

Molly flips his sunglasses back onto his forehead. (If this were an average morning, Nott wouldn’t have been thrown off and would have had an opportunity to make a comment about the indoor sunglasses, but now her window’s gone. Dammit.) “I’m taking you apartment hunting!”

Beat.

“You’re _what_ ,” shrieks Nott, remembering only after she’s said it that Caleb is probably still sleeping. Oops.

“Seemed self-explanatory.” Molly shrugs. “Caleb told me a bit ago that you trusted me to judge apartments more than him, and I’m ready early for once, and you are also up. Plus—” he lowers his voice “—don’t tell Caleb I said this, but my car is objectively better than his. Not perfect, mind you, but more functional at least.” Nott can’t disagree with this, but she shakes her head anyway. Molly ignores it, snatches his keys off the fridge, and uses them to gesture toward the door. “So, what do you say?”

“…What,” says Nott again. She knows she’d suggested that Molly help her on her apartment search, but she hadn’t expected Caleb to take her seriously and tell him. She’d expected even less that Molly would _agree_. Her mouth opens and shuts several times—Molly’s face remains blase. “You—I—how? I said that, like, a month ago—”

“Well,” says Molly, swinging his keys, “your brother remembers literally almost everything, and I have the fun ADHD memory perk of not being able to remember entire lesson plans but retaining weird snippets of conversation.” His smile grows somewhat threatening. Or is that in Nott’s imagination? (Probably, but she can never be sure.) “You can finish your breakfast, of course, but the early bird gets the worm, right?”

So thirty-odd minutes later, after Nott finishes her bagel and Molly decides to have one of his own and Nott throws a hoodie on (it may be July, but she likes hoodies, okay), they’re sitting in his car and saying nothing. They do have excuses: Molly is driving, and Nott is organizing her cut-out listings based on distance, and one of Molly’s favored rock ‘n’ roll or whatever stations is playing. It’s not loud enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear each other if one decided to speak. Nott thinks that’s a shame.

It isn’t that she dislikes Molly. She’s grown to be fond of him, in fact, even if her protective streak over Caleb continues to flare up at uncomfortable moments, and by now, she doesn’t mind that they’re dating. If she’s not _trying_ to be antagonistic, she gets on decently with Molly—well, some more optimistic folk might say. She hasn’t threatened him with a real, physical knife since December; that’s progress! And she hadn’t been lying when she said she trusted Molly’s judgment over Caleb’s in this specific area, even if she’d meant it as a joke at the time. Maybe this impromptu road trip is a good thing, she decides.

She sighs and steels herself. Busy humming along to what Nott surmises is Queen from the killer guitar riffs and overall energy, Molly doesn’t appear to notice.

“So,” she says uncomfortably. Molly doesn’t say anything, but he does turn the music down a few notches. Nott coughs. “…I spy with my little eye something—”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” Molly turns the volume back up. “I Spy is reserved for the two-hour or more mark. We’ve only been driving a few minutes, and we should only be in for another—where did you say the closest place was?”

She didn’t, but Nott rummages through her listings (why did she decide to arrange these _backwards_?) and rattles off the address.

Molly takes the upcoming red light as an opportunity to check Google Maps. “Uh, so that should be another fifteen minutes. It’s not time to bust out the road trip games.”

“No license plate game either? Because there’s somebody from Canada in front of us. Easy two points.”

“Definitely not that.” Molly shudders and, as an electronic voice from his phone voices the directions, jerks the wheel to make a left. There’s a pause while he taps the steering wheel—off-rhythm. “Okay, I really don’t want to make a habit of telling people—huh, Widogasts specifically for some reason—about my past in my car, but I played enough road trip games when I was sixteen to be sick of them for the rest of my life.”

Nott squints, mainly because she’s too short to make use of the sun visor and hadn’t thought to bring a hat or sunglasses. She has half a mind to just steal Molly’s, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea to snatch something off the face of the person who’s driving. And the sunglasses probably wouldn’t fit.

“Okay,” she says, not bothering to ask him to elaborate. She folds her arms and tries to think of something to talk about. “Uh… um.”

“Having trouble there, dear?”

“Shut up, asshole, I’m trying to have a nice conversation!” She realizes the multiple problems with the wording as soon as Molly smirks. “Fuck. Forget I said any of that.” From how his smirk widens even further, now more or less just a curved gash of black lipstick (she’s also regretting not noticing and thus not commenting on the goth lips), she doubts that’s going to happen. “Uh. What are you least looking forward to about house hunting?”

“Hmm.” The light ahead of them goes red. Molly swears under his breath as they brake, then slings one arm out the open window. “I mean, I’ve done my fair share of it, but it’s been a while, so… I guess the shitty landlords we’ll run into. Oh, by ‘shitty,’ I mean the racist ones and the like, mostly, but there’s plenty of generic shitty ones out there.”

“Oh, fuck, I didn’t even think about that.” She’d encountered a few who’d looked at her funny so far, but she’d chalked it up to her being under five feet tall and having green hair and being very loud and maybe drunk some days. (Liquid courage is totally a thing.) “If any landlords ask us where we’re _from_ in that one way—you know that way, right—” Molly grimaces and nods “—then I might punch them. And for sure steal anything I can reach.”

“I absolutely support you doing that.”

“Ditto for if anyone gives me shit for being trans.” She stuffs her hands in her hoodie pockets (she’s already beginning to overheat, but it’ll be fine), then pauses. “I—wait. I haven’t told you I’m trans before, have I?”

Molly’s face softens, mouth morphing into more of a genuine smile than a lopsided and condescending grin, and he fixes his gaze forward as the light switches to green. “I don’t think so, but no time like the present. Thanks for feeling comfortable enough to share.”

“It felt relevant,” says Nott, reddening.

There’s a pregnant pause. Molly runs a hand through his hair, tied in a loose half-up and half-down ponytail, and then says, “Well, so does this, then. Fairly certain you already know I’m not cis—” Nott shrugs “—but, specifically, I’m genderfluid.”

“Oh, cool. Still he/him?”

“Yep! Anything goes, honestly, if you’d ever like to mix things up—” she doubts she will, but she’ll keep it in mind “—but he/him works best.”

Nott nods. It’s silent save for the radio for several moments, then—

“Why is coming out in a car such a universal experience?” she blurts.

Molly snorts—then, brow furrowing, he seems to really think about it. “Huh. It is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! God! Like, Caleb told me he was gay when he was teaching me how to drive, and even before that, I told him and our parents I was a girl, actually, on a family road trip.” Molly laughs. “Also, one time, when she and Caleb were in college, Beau came out to me when we were driving somewhere. I already knew she was gay, though, especially after Caleb came out to me, so I don’t think that one really counts.”

“I’m pretty sure I told a car full of people, including my father, that I was bi during one of those _goddamn_ road trip games,” says Molly, and Nott snickers. “Wait, wait, no. It was truth or dare, but it was still in a car. Christ, that’s spooky.”

“ _I know, right?”_

They make eye contact, and they both seem to realize the bonding moment they’ve just had as the silence becomes uncomfortably comfortable. Nott is startled by how little she minds it. She flashes Molly a toothy smile and then faces front, not saying another word until they’re parked in front of the first apartment complex.

While Molly gets his things and sets up a windshield visor with a _Star Wars_ picture on it, Nott slips out of the car and onto the sidewalk.

She narrows her eyes to lessen the glare from the sun and plants her hands on her hips. Confidence is always good, she knows, even if it’s an act. _Fake it until you make it_ , right?

She glances over to where Molly’s waiting by the door. Somewhere, she thinks that maybe the past several months of her life—or, if she wants to go full hippie with it, her entire life—has been leading up to this day; to this exact moment. She shuts her eyes and imagines a movie poster: _House Hunters_ … no, wait, that’s already a TV show. _Apartment Hunters—_ on-the-nose but accurate, and probably not anything big already in existence.

_Coming soon to a theater near you. An all-new feature film (and even not that all-new, given that there’s already a hundreds-of-episodes-long series on HGTV based around the same basic concept)! Staring a twentysomething (yes, really) public elementary school employee and her brother’s boyfriend of four months. Can they get along as they undergo, together, the treacherous quest of searching for a livable yet affordable apartment in the vicinity of their workplace?!_

Sounds like a terrible movie. She’d give it a negative rating on Rotten Tomatoes based on the blurb alone. She makes a _bleh_ sound and sticks her tongue out, drawing a bemused look from Molly, who’s checking his phone. Nott sighs and marches up to him.

“One out of—” she checks the streamlined list on her phone “—fifteen of today’s selections in progress, fourteen to go.” Daunting, but they can manage, she’s sure. Fuck the clickbait-y hook on their movie’s blurb—they abso-fucking-lutely can do this. She takes a deep breath. “Uh, let’s go,” she adds, making it sound more like a question than the confident proclamation she’d been hoping for.

“Let’s,” agrees Molly.

+

The first apartment, as it turns out, is a bust. Not counting the tiny bathroom, it’s a single room—dubiously stained mattress in one corner, kitchen counter in the other—with multiple leaking holes in the ceiling. Plus, the landlord hovers in a way that skeeves Nott out. She can tell from the look she exchanges with Molly when the landlord asks for their thoughts that it’s going to be a solid no.

As soon as they’re outside, Nott cuts the place from her list and crumples up the physical listing and dunks it into the nearby trash can. She tries not to let her disappointment show as they trudge back toward Molly’s car. “Tries” being the operative word—halfway there, Molly taps her shoulder.

“They can’t all be winners,” he says. “And haven’t you been at this for a while now? The first place to you to is never the best one. Fate’s never that kind.”

“I guess so.”

A beat. Molly shuffles his feet and glances her over. He crouches so that they’re on eye level—usually, she hates that, but now she finds herself glad to look down at him. “Hey, there’s still fourteen places we’ve got on the list for today, hm? And even if none of them work out, I’m more than willing to spend more than one day doing this. Well, if everything works out okay today.”

“If we don’t kill each other, you mean,” says Nott.

Molly taps his chin. “Well, that’s the worst case scenario, but sure.” He stands back up and offers his arm for Nott to hold onto. “Shall we head off to the next adventure of the day?”

Nott refuses to take his arm and makes this clear with a glare, but she does manage a smile. “We shall.”

+

The second, third, fourth, and fifth apartments are also letdowns, which is expected but still disappointing. Only the third one has major issues—the steep rent in exchange for a tiny apartment without WiFi—but Nott doesn’t feel comfortable in any of them. She might be being overly picky, but this is where she’ll be living for God knows how long.

“You’ll find something suitable,” Molly tells her as they’re getting back in his car after the forth. “Even if it takes forever.”

“Was that meant to be reassuring?” says Nott, meeting his eyes in the rearview instead of directly. “Because it really wasn’t. At all.”

Molly rolls his eyes and cranks the MCR now playing from his phone.

The sixth place isn’t an apartment at all, but a house. Nott had shied away from cutting those listings out, since she currently doesn’t have the salary to afford rent in a house even if it’s shared, but this had been a Craigslist advertisement for a roommate and there are already three other people living in the house, so she’d made an exception.

She’s also very skeptical, because, well, Craigslist. But she’d spoken on the phone with the woman, who seemed pleasant and like a real person. Her low hopes for the house are surprisingly dashed as soon as she steps inside.

It’s a nice place—big but not enormous, just big enough for four or five people, and built more like a vacation home than a permanent living space. Nott is sure someone would love living here. She, however, is not that person, as becomes patently obvious within ten minutes. There’s nothing wrong with it (save for the basic discomfort of sharing a house with three strangers)—it just isn’t for her. Nott weighs the pros and cons in her head while Molly strikes up a conversation with the woman Nott had spoken to before, who’s the only one of her housemates home and who had given them a gracious tour.

She tugs Molly aside. “What do you think?”

“Nice place,” says Molly, glancing up at the high, high ceiling. “Doesn’t really seem your style, though, and I think you’re thinking the exact same thing.” He smiles in a way that aggravates Nott, especially paired with his words— _right_ on the mark and thus very frustrating to hear.

“Fuck off,” says Nott after a beat of silence. “You’re right, but fuck off.”

Molly laughs, and informs the woman that it’s not the right fit—Nott is somewhat embarrassed she doesn’t get to say this herself, but the woman doesn’t seem to mind.

“Well, if you change your mind, we’re not making any roommate decisions until later this month,” she says with a smile.

Nott nods, though she’s pretty sure she won’t be changing her mind. Outside, she huffs. “Back to the drawing board,” she tells Molly.

+

Well, not quite the drawing board. Before they go to the seventh apartment on Nott’s list, they make a detour for lunch—it’s nearing one, they’re almost to the halfway point, and Nott needs some french fries to cheer herself up.

The waitress looks between them, Nott with the kids’ menu she’d been given and Molly sipping from a glass of lemonade. “Oh, it’s so sweet of you to be treating your little sister,” she says, smiling at Molly.

Nott pulls a completely involuntary disgusted face. Lucky for her, the waitress’ attention is focused on Molly, who almost chokes on his lemonade.

But with no outward reaction other than a mild cough and a deer-in-headlights blink, he brushes it off and flashes the waitress his best shiny smile. “Sure! She just finished—” he surreptitiously checks the age limit on the kids’ menu, which Nott uses to cover her expression “—sixth grade, but I’ve been traveling, so we haven’t gotten to celebrate until now. Better late than never,” he says, stretching across the table to ruffle Nott’s hair.

The waitress _aww_ s, takes their orders, and heads off, still smiling. As soon as she’s gone and Nott has shoved Molly’s gross palm off her head (to be fair, he takes it back without protesting), someone snorts loud enough that Molly jumps. Caleb’s startle factor must be catching.

“Since when are you two related?” says a familiar voice, shit-eating grin obvious in her tone. Then, more horrified, “Oh, God, did you and Caleb elope without telling anyone?”

Nott turns to see, at the table behind them, Beau (somewhere between a grin and a grimace) and Yasha (suitably startled by the situation). Their meals are almost finished, and their hands are laced together on the table. Nott waves at Yasha. She waves back.

Molly rolls his eyes. “Of course not. I would have told Yasha the very second I planned to propose, and I wouldn’t elope with someone without proposing first. That’s not chivalrous.”

“You would tell _me_ if you planned to propose too, right?” says Nott, indignant, even though she doesn’t really want to think about Molly proposing at all. Dating is one thing—engagement and marriage, a whole other.

“I would absolutely ask for your blessing at some point,” says Molly. That doesn’t reassure her, but she scoffs and turns to look at Beau and Yasha again.

“What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“Lunch date,” singsongs Beau. “Yasha’s idea, actually. Great one, babe, we got to run into these chucklefucks outside of work, which is one of my reoccurring nightmares.”

Molly flips her off, which she doesn’t see because she’s turning back to face Yasha, who sighs. “We’re mostly just waiting for the waitress to bring the check now. Why are you here?”

“A break from apartment hunting,” says Nott, “which sucks ass.”

Yasha makes a sympathetic noise. “Molly, you… volunteered for this?” she says, tone implying that she’s talking about someone willingly undergoing the nail-ripping kind of torture rather than apartment hunting.

“I did, and I’m regretting every second of it.” Nott kicks Molly in the ankle. _Your fault for wearing open sandals, dickhead,_ she thinks. “Kidding! Even if we’re getting yelled off the premises by grouchy landlords, I—” he glances to the side, then lifts his voice a tiny bit “—am always happy to spend time with my darling little sister. How has school been, anyway? Oh, wait, it’s summer break. Silly me.”

He laughs like an upper-class anime character. Nott frowns, but soon sees why the sudden switch in attitude as their waitress walks over to Beau and Yasha’s table. She glances between them for a moment before giving Yasha the check. While Beau and Yasha bicker over who’s going to be a lady and pay, Molly slurps his lemonade.

“You should be an actor,” snarks Nott.

“I have always had a talent for drama,” says Molly, contemplative. “But we can discuss my alternative career choices after we eat, hm?” He glances up, and Nott twists to follow his gaze. Yasha is now standing, seemingly having lost the debate to Beau, who’s holding the check and digging around in her jacket pockets with her free hands. “Have a good one, Yasha, dear,” he calls. “Beau… don’t trip when you get up. Also, there’s something in your teeth.”

“You can’t even see my teeth, asshole!” Beau snaps, plunking down a fistful of cash for the tip, but Nott can see her poking around in her mouth before she and Yasha head out.

“See?” says Molly. “Can’t win ‘em all.”

Nott sighs and waits for their food to come.

+

From there, the apartments and hours pass by in a blur, with the only uniting factor being that none of the apartments will be suitable for Nott. The eighth in particular grosses Molly out.

“I see you have a black mold problem,” he says, slow, phone in hand and fingers flying across the keys.

Nott glances around—yup, those sure are clusters of black mold lining the walls. “Thanks but no thanks,” she tells the rapidly paling landlord, who proceeds to corner them in the doorway and try to convince them that the black mold could be a variety of other, non-hazardous things.

Apartment fourteen is, if possible, worse than every other apartment they’d visited today, which makes Nott worry about the final listing. It’s not a good apartment in quality—a ton of things are left over from the previous tenant, including the unemptied trash, and it’s barely big enough to move around in—and the landlady is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. She’s shady and rich and wants more out of Nott a month than she could garner in an entire year. She’s an asshole, too, side-eyeing both Molly and Nott in a way that makes Nott’s hair stand on end.

They leave within ten minutes. The landlady doesn’t seem too fussed about the shoddy excuses Molly gives for their hasty leave, just smiling a cold and thin smile.

As they step outside of the building, Molly leans over to whisper, “Did you steal anything from her?”

Without a word, Nott slips a shiny gold pocket watch out of her sleeve. The woman will miss it eventually, she’s sure, but for now, Nott’s got something shiny to add to one of her collections that will never see the light of day. Molly’s face breaks into a wicked grin.

“That’ll do, Nott,” he says, patting her on the head. “That’ll do.”

She sticks out her foot to accidentally-on-purpose trip him. He steps over it with ease.

“You’ll have to try a hell of a lot harder than _that_ , dear.”

+

The final person they talk to is a literal giant. Nott spends a good two minutes just staring, mouth agape, up at him when he opens the door; Molly steps in to tell him what they’re doing there, so the man doesn’t seem to think much of it, but Nott is paralyzed the whole time.

After Molly introduces them, the man smiles and turns around, saying something about a pot of tea. Nott continues gaping. She can’t compare when they’re not standing side-by-side, but she thinks he might be even taller than Yasha, who is the tallest person she’s ever met. She isn’t as intimidated by him as she is by Yasha, though—it’s mostly because of the hair, which is pastel pink and styled in a shoulder-length undercut, not the intimidating yet badass ombré look Yasha has going on. It says something about someone when their pink hair isn’t the most remarkable thing about them.

His demeanor seems… she’s not sure how to describe it, but more relaxing than Yasha’s intimidating presence. The droopy eyes and equally droopy smile suggest he’s calmer than the many people Nott has spoken to today, anyway.

Molly, seeming to overlook all of this, says, “I think I’ll like this fellow.”

“You would,” mutters Nott. “Maybe you can be hair dye buddies.” Somewhat hypocritical on her behalf, given her own hair is currently dark green, but it’s not bright pink or purple.

“Excellent plan.”

“Oh, God. Let’s—let’s just talk to him, see what he’s got for me.”

Nott takes a deep breath and steps inside. Molly follows her, shutting the door behind them. The man is in the small corner kitchen; Nott’s not sure how he fits in there amongst the virtual forest of potted plants, but he is, indeed, hovering over a kettle of tea with smoke pouring out. When the door closes, he lifts his head.

“Tea will be ready in a minute or so,” he says, still smiling lazily. “In the meantime, why don’t you two sit down?”

He sweeps a large hand toward the living room area, where two armchairs are placed across from a couch, a table in between. The arrangement reminds Nott of Caleb’s living room—already, she can feel herself relaxing. Something about this place feels like _home_.

Molly plops down in one armchair. He arches an eyebrow at Nott, who—with one last glance in the man’s direction—takes the other.

The tea kettle whistles, and a moment later, the man joins them, a wide platter in hand. “Help yourself, please.” He sets the platter down on the table—on it are three steaming cups of tea and the floral-patterned kettle. “It’s an herbal blend I devised myself.”

And then the man takes a seat on the couch, and then he… talks. Nott tries her best to listen. His name is Caduceus Clay, it turns out, and he chats about his past with an admirable candor—he’s a med student (and self-admitted late bloomer) who used to run his family’s funeral home until he and his older sister moved to Zadash.

What he _doesn’t_ talk about is the apartment itself. Since Nott is sitting in it right now, she glances around—it’s nice and cozy, not too small nor too big, but the sheer amount of plants would have to change. The aesthetic is okay, and suiting for Caduceus; she just has whatever the opposite of a green thumb is. It’s a curse. Once, when she’d visited Caleb in college and tried to take care of a succulent he owned, she’d managed to _over_ water it (who even knew that was a thing?). After halfheartedly reassuring her that it was all right and he could always go buy another plant, Caleb had suggested that the green in her hair—then just streaks—did it. He’d had to clarify he was joking after her lukewarm reaction.

Maybe the fungi can stay, though, she thinks, glancing at an opened cabinet with a few containers filled with mushrooms. She’s never tried taking care of mushrooms before.

“Have I seen you somewhere before, Caduceus?” says Molly, cutting her off before she can even start.

Nott almost makes a comment about a dyed hair convention—this time, before she says it, she remembers her own hair color and stays wisely silent. Besides, Caduceus is strange enough that she’s starting to think the pink is his natural hair color.

Caduceus tilts his head. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before, Mx.… Mollymauk Tealeaf, you said? Your name sounds a bit familiar, though.”

“Molly. Please.” He shrugs and takes a sip of tea. “Must be a déjà vu thing, then—I get those a lot. Very nice tea, by the way.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” pipes in Nott, leaning her elbow on the table in a way that is probably considered rude. Caduceus smiles, almost bashful. “Uh, so what’s the deal with all the foliage, Mr. Clay?”

“Ah, that’s just a hobby of mine. I grow and study different kinds of mushrooms and plants, and—” he gestures at one nearby pot, which to Nott looks the same as every other one in the room “—I’ve grown most of my own tea leaves for a few years. Don’t worry, it’ll all be out within the next few days.” Caduceus pours himself more tea while Nott tries not to look too relieved; she’s pretty sure she fails, but it’s the thought that counts. “I apologize for the mess right now. I hadn’t expected anyone to reply to my ad quite this fast.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been keeping up with the papers a lot recently. By _a lot_ , I mean _at all_.” Molly snorts, and Caduceus continues smiling in that simultaneously unnerving and calming way, and Nott glances around again. “It’s a really nice apartment, thousands of plants or not—”

“Why, thank you.”

“So why are you moving out?” She eyes the low ceiling—even sitting down, he’s not far from it. “Too small for you?”

Caduceus’ face mellows a little—which is saying something, since he’s already the chillest guy Nott has ever spoken to. Casually, she sniffs, but all she can smell is the herbal tea in front of her. “Nothing like that. It’s actually quite comfortable for me—if anything, it’s too big. I’m used to humbler things.” He chuckles. “I’m only moving because I’m moving in with my boyfriend.”

Molly snaps his fingers, cutting off whatever Nott had been thinking of saying and thus her entire train of thought. “ _That’s_ where I know you from. You’re Pumat’s boyfriend!”

At that, Caduceus perks up. He takes another sip of tea, then sets it down and folds his hands in his lap instead. “If you mean Pumat Sol, then yes, indeed, I am.”

Nott’s jaw drops. She knows she’s being incredibly unsubtle, and Molly’s glance in her direction only drives that home, but it’s really seeming like she’s trapped in the endless web that Zadash Grade School’s staff has weaved now. Can she talk to anyone who’s not tangled in somehow? First bumping into Beau and Yasha in a non-school-related situation, and now this.

“Ah,” says Caduceus, the penny seeming to drop, “you two must work with him at the school.”

“I work in the library with my brother,” blurts Nott, relieved to have a distraction from her mini-crisis—then, jerking her thumb at Molly, “And he teaches a three-four split.”

“Oh, so I’m sure you work much closer with Pumat,” says Caduceus, nodding at Molly, who shrugs. His eyes travel back to Nott. “Your brother… he would be Caleb Widogast, wouldn’t he? No wonder your name sounded familiar.”

Nott nods. “Yes! Has Pumat told you about us?”

“Here and there, but he talks more about the kids than he does his coworkers. Nothing against either of you, I’m sure.” Caduceus offers the kettle to Molly and Nott. Molly pushes his empty (when did he do that?) cup forward for Caduceus to fill it, but Nott holds up a hand in polite refusal. “He has talked some about Caleb, though. Seems they get along pretty well.”

“Makes sense,” says Molly. “Pumat _is_ much more put together than the rest of us—and they’re both nerds.”

Nott opens her mouth in Caleb’s defense, but Molly’s tone is fonder than it probably should be—does calling one’s boyfriend a nerd in that sort of voice make them a nerd by association? she wonders—and it isn’t like he’s wrong. Her mouth closes as soon as it had opened.

“Something to say there, Nott?”

“Just that you’re as much of a nerd as Caleb is and you know it,” she says, tapping the side of her teacup.

Molly scoffs. “How dare you. I am very proudly an illiterate dumbass.”

“I didn’t mean nerd like that, _nerd_.” Nott elbows him, almost shocked by how casually she does so. Like it’s a playful argument with Caleb instead of his ostentatious, self-described dumbass boyfriend whom she’s still trying to admit she tolerates.

She decides not to think about the implications of this and turns back to Caduceus. His eyes flicker between her and Molly like he’s trying to figure something out, but when she meets his eyes, he focuses on her again.

“Can you tell me more about the apartment?” she asks.

“Of course,” says Caduceus, looking pleased to be back in the loop. “As you can see, it’s one of the smaller units here. Still one bed and one bath—if you’d like to check those out, feel free, but I do have to warn you that they’re both messes right now. Oh, the building is a bit old, so rent isn’t as high, but the facilities and such might break down every now and then.” He gestures at the AC unit on a nearby wall. “But I’ve lived here since my sister passed ownership of the complex to me, so for a few years now, and I haven’t had any major problems. Besides—” he glances at Nott’s sweatshirt, which she’d honestly forgotten she was wearing “—it doesn’t seem like you mind extreme temperatures.”

“…Wait,” says Molly, as Nott’s opening her mouth to say the same thing. “You own this building?”

“Yes?” Caduceus tilts his head. “Or, well, my family does—I’m just the one in charge of it now, and I think my sister wants to take it back when she moves back into town. Did you not notice the complex’s name? Or that I was the one talking to you about the place?”

“I did just literally call myself a dumbass,” says Molly, and Caduceus chuckles. “You do the math.”

“Me and math aren’t on the best of terms,” says Caduceus, folding his hands, “so I’ll leave that to you.”

Nott digs the listing out of her pocket. _Clay Apartments_. “I—I just figured it was what the building was made of, I think. Huh.” She stuffs the listing back into her pocket—not too neatly, since she’d been planning on tossing it in the garbage bins out back on their way out anyway. “So you’ll be my landlord?”

“If you wind up moving in here, then yes.”

Nott considers this. She leans back in her seat and looks around. The apartment is compact, but not too small—small is perfect for her in the first place, though, and it’s small in an efficient way, not a cramped one like most of the other apartments she’s visited today. From here in the living room, she can see the kitchen. It’s overrun with potted plants, of course, but she can change that.

In fact, she can—and would—change most of the things she can see right now, except the structure of the apartment itself. As she notices more and more of her surroundings, she gets more and more ideas. She’s never had an entire space like this before. In college, she’d had half of a dorm room for four years, and up north, she’d lived with a rotating cast of roommates in a rotating series of apartments. Nothing permanent; nothing to get comfortable in; nothing to belong completely to her.

Here, though—

This could be hers. And, looking around, she thinks she’d like that—not just a place of her own, but _this_ place in particular. She’s never really been one for fate, but it seems as though it’s calling her name.

Nott grins and turns back to Caduceus. “I think I will.”

Caduceus’ smile grows into a beam, teeth poking out—a startling but warming expression on his gaunt face. “I’m very pleased to hear that, Ms. Nott. Now, there isn’t anything to sign quite yet, but I did want to discuss a few things before you make your final decision….”

+

“You both look like shit,” says Caleb, flat, when they return at almost six-thirty. It’d taken him, bent over his laptop on the couch, several moments to realize they had, and he’d jolted when Molly had greeted him. So had Frumpkin—startled enough that he’d almost fallen off his cat tower, then slinked away into Caleb’s room with a dirty look to spare for Nott. Now, Caleb tweaks his glasses and adds, “What happened?”

Molly and Nott exchange a look and say, in unison and cheerfully matter-of-fact, “We bonded.”

Caleb squints. Nott can only imagine how shitty they really must look: both harried but grinning, hair and clothes askew from mindless tweaking and desperate fleeing from the more unsavory apartments.

“Did this bonding include food?” he asks after a moment of consideration. Nott glances down to see several takeout menus sprawled across the coffee table. On cue, her stomach growls. “Ah—I will take that as a no. Your choice, then.”

She doesn’t want to be _too_ cruel to Caleb, so she, after looking over the choices, picks the pizza place with the best mozzarella sticks she’s had in her entire life. And she’s had a _lot_ of mozzarella sticks. It’s also partially because Molly tells her he’s never had it.

“Blasphemy,” Nott hisses, already punching in the number in her phone.

Molly shrugs in a way that makes his neck creak. Nott’s sure that isn’t healthy. “Well, I’ll try anything once.”

That’s probably true, considering, well, _him_ , but Nott shushes him as she waits for someone to pick up.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them gather in the living room—Caleb’s laptop closed on his lap but not abandoned—with a small cheese pizza for Caleb, large pineapple for Molly and Nott (she’s too disturbed to ask if they have the same favorite flavor or he’s just riding the “try anything once” train), and a mountain of mozzarella sticks. Nott decides to hold off on eating those until she’s had her pizza.

“So, uh, how _did_ things go?” says Caleb. “Because all of the live updates I received were, well—” He grabs his phone, taps a few things, and then holds it up in a way that his thumb is covering the contact name.

Molly coughs and averts his gaze. Squinting, Nott leans closer while Caleb scrolls through the day’s texts—it becomes clear before long that they’re from Molly. One set of texts, sent around two this afternoon, read:

_i might die????_

_???_  
_Molly, what is going on?_  
_Mollymauk?_  
_I am going to call you_  
_Well. I very much hope you and Nott are not dead and that your phone is just on silent because you are having a troublesome conversation with a possible landlord_  
_Please do text me when you see these, though._

Then, under twenty minutes after Molly’s original text: _well we lived. no dice on the apartment though (which is a good thing, it was awful)_ , followed by _apologies for the scare!!!!!!_

Nott glances back up at Molly. “We weren’t going to _die_! It was just a little bit of black mold.”

“It felt like it!” Molly shudders. “Spending more than a few minutes in that place might have killed us, Nott. I could have gotten the plague without even touching anything. Just breathing in the fumes.”

“Well,” says Caleb tonelessly, “I am glad neither of you died on your, uh—” A pause—he seems to be unsure what word to use here. “Excursion.”

“Please, darling, have a little more faith in me,” says Molly, knocking their knees together. “I regularly go to places that people should be as quiet and respectful as humanly possible in with third and fourth graders. If today had killed me, I would be a pretty shitty teacher.”

“That—I suppose that is true, ja.”

“It went fine,” says Nott with a shrug, finally answering Caleb’s original question. “I managed not to kill Molly, and he didn’t kill me either, so that’s a success, right? Oh, _and_ ,” she adds before either of them can say anything. The creases in Caleb’s forehead deepen as she extends the silence—Nott mouths _drumroll_ at Molly, who obliges. “I got an apartment!”

Saying it aloud makes her grin—it’s really happening. Even though she’d spent well over thirty minutes discussing the terms with Caduceus, now is when she fully realizes she’s going to be moving before long. She has an apartment now. (Well, not _now_ , but she will soon enough.)

Caleb blinks, eyes flickering to the side for a confirming nod from Molly (traitor, thinks Nott), and then smiles. “That’s—that is fantastic, Schwesterherz! When are you moving in?”

He’s trying not to sound impatient, Nott can tell—she appreciates that, but she’s just as impatient as he must be. Hell, probably more impatient, even if she’s going through whatever the inverse of empty nest syndrome is. (Can siblings be empty nesters? She’ll figure that out later. It seems pretty accurate right now, though.)

“As soon as the place is cleaned out and my landlord and his garden are all set up in his new place, he’ll give me the lease to sign. Oh!” she adds, sitting up straighter. “Guess who my landlord is!”

“Who’s your landlord?”

“Pumat’s boyfriend!”

Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up. “I… didn’t even know Pumat had a boyfriend.”

“Neither did I,” says Nott, now that she thinks of it. She frowns and whirls to Molly. “How did you know?”

“Oh, you know,” says Molly. When both Caleb and Nott stare at him as if to say _no, we absolutely don’t_ , he waves a hand. “Workplace gossip. You all haven’t noticed how much our coworkers talk?”

Nott makes a noncommittal sound, thinking of the amount of gossip that circulates at Jester’s sleepovers. She’d chalked that up to typical sleepover conversations. Maybe it is (definitely so, if she takes every teen movie she’s ever watched as an example), but her friends gossip more than most. Caleb glances to the side, which is an answer in itself.

Molly laughs. “Anyway, yeah, Nott’s new place is very nice. Nott, dear, congrats on that, and—” Nott doesn’t at all trust the glint in his eyes, nor the way he sits forward. “Since you didn’t find a single worthwhile place in the past month, but you snagged what’s probably one of the cleanest, overall best apartments in the entire city as soon as I tagged along… I must be something like your good luck charm, huh?”

Nott rolls her eyes and kicks him in the shin. Caleb, though feigning being more enthralled in his pizza, is watching them cautiously, leaning up off his seat the way he does when he doesn’t know if he’ll need to intervene. Listening to Molly’s snicker, she doubts he will.

No, scratch that. She _knows_ he won’t have to.

“Yeah,” she says. “Something like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! if you have time to spare, i really appreciate comments & kudos <3
> 
> also, wrt kgverse, i honestly don't know when the next installment will be? with some, uh, newly-gained canon info, i'd like to start working on the beauyasha companion fic to kg sometime soon, but i'm not sure when that'll be b/c of aforementioned other cr fics, schoolwork (the ever-constant bane of my existence), & a couple personal projects, so. stay tuned i suppose!
> 
> [tumblr](http://infernallegaycy.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/birdmarrow)


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